Finishing feels like a lifetime accomplishment.
It is long, sure. I felt guilty reading Vanity Fair or Tina Fey's memoir when over 1000 pages of train schedules remained.
Atlas and its authoress are known for the in-no-way subtle philosophies of objectivism and capitalism. I have studied the Bolshevik revolution and chain of events that followed. I have lived in a post-soviet country with a woman born in 1916. I have never liked Communism, as a theory or practice, but now that ambient dislike is direct as a switchblade.
Out of the 1168 pages of development, probably half of it is preaching in favor of the gold standard, and preaching against collectivism. Every speech a favorable character makes (all of whom are fit and good looking) expands from character-voice to preacher-voice in less than 3 words and trails on repetitively for a minimum of 6 paragraphs, maximum (not kidding) 68 pages.
The “novel,” fictional part of Atlas follows the lives of a couple free-trade, super industrialists (think cartoons of Jay Gould, Andrew Carnegie), who are being thwarted and brought low by sniveling “looters” (think cartoons of Lenin and Trotsky).
Like any good Russian writer, Rand is ardent for detail. Though we are repeatedly told these great men and woman are austere and have no patience for decadence, they are quite verbose and prone to wearing the most expensive possible clothing—all of which is described with a maniacal attention to every feather, button, brooch, wisp of hair, cut of pant, and tightness. But it doesn't stop at the clothes, or even the stretches of railroad operation, it bleeds into the similie. Instead of saying things in the same simple tone she affords physical objects, she likes to think humans are more complex, and affords them expression through what she clearly thinks is artistic.
She even often starts in a way that would allow the reader to come to their own, deeper rooted understanding of the situation. Like when “Clouds had wrapped the sky and had descended as fog to wrap the streets below,” it's clear that the desolation is at hand, but Rand must go the next step. She must hammer the idea into you with “as if the sky were engulfing the city.”
Just in case you didn't get it.
Sometimes they are complexly worded: “His voice had the single-toned flatness and the luminous simplicity of an accountant who reminds a reckless purchaser that cost is an absolute which cannot be escaped.” But they are always blunt and unrevealing.
All of which is not to say the book is not good. I enjoyed it. Her characters, in quick dialogue, are well developed individuals. They are funny, and fun-loving. They have complex histories and relationships. Rand uses them to adequately show what she is telling.
And, golly, what she is telling. Her observations of the Bolshevik revolution are acute, vast, and painstakingly detailed. Rand shows just how horrid communism is by walking the reader through exactly what happened to policy in Russia when the Tsars and White Russians were ousted, and alludes this to be the subtler, slimier side of American liberals, and if they are not careful, what could happen if you nationalize industry.
The admirable thing about the set up, is how thoroughly she trounces her opponent argument at the same time as building up her own. She is a true litigator. She lets the opposition spout their philosophies too! Their philosophy for life is peace through control and only ever action “for the good of the people.” She never slips and allows her characters to admit committing these actions were for personal power gain, as the good guys do.
The point, at the end of the day, is to let people be on their own. She simplifies industry to all the good points. She simplifies all unionization and welfare to all their bad points, and sticks her thoughts in the mouths of well-rounded characters. Atlas Shrugged is neither story nor treatise. It is both, but neither fully. It is interesting, but not compelling.
But, it's been voted Reader's Choice for best book HERE, so, maybe I'm just a harsh little looter.
